


eavesdropping

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Multi, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Telepathic Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: “Jean,” Charles whispers, “would you like to tell Erik what exactly had me so distracted last night?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/gifts).



> Post-XMA. Jean is 18.  
> It is pretty messed up that Charles is training a paramilitary unit of students in his house, for starters, so why not this too. :D  
> For [pearl_o](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o), based on interesting idea she had.

Jean wakes suddenly, realizing she’s drenched in sweat. 

Breathing hard, she sits up in the dark, draws her knees in, looping her arms over them and resting her face on them. It’s silent everywhere here in the middle of the night, except in her head, where she’s realizing what seemed to be a dream is not a dream. It’s really happening on the other side of the mansion. She must have inadvertently, unconsciously, opened herself to the psychic channel that’s playing out between two men who’ve been in love longer than she’s been alive. 

There’s a lot Jean hasn’t experienced, and this is a sort of love beyond that which she’s imagined—there’s so much pain, anger, passion there. She’s not unfamiliar with those feelings, but to have them wrapped up in a sweeping whirlwind of love like this is fascinatingly new.

She knows, of course, what the two of them are to each other—when she saved the professor’s life, there was a bridge built between them that didn’t allow for much secrecy. But she’s never tapped directly into it like this.

The professor is on his back in bed, naked, and Mr. Lehnsherr is above him, kissing him, naked too. The professor’s hands don’t just roam over his bare skin, they clutch at him, the blunt nails digging into him. At the same time, his palms tingle with every caress, savoring the feel of his skin. The professor wants to know he’s real, that he’s really there. Until, well, recent events, they’d been apart for years, and Mr. Lehnsherr will probably be off again soon—he’s said from the start he wasn’t planning to stay at the mansion long. The professor won’t stop him from leaving, but he doesn’t want him to go—everything in him wants him to stay, even given everything Mr. Lehnsherr has put him through. 

For now, though, he can’t help soaking up his attentions—he wants very badly to be touched, the professor does. It’s been a long time and he’s been through a lot lately, and something in Mr. Lehnsherr is still lost, grieving, returning to something he can only find with the professor. Something he needs right now. 

The professor cups his head, cradles it, giving him little nipping kisses between deeper, more searching ones. She can feel what it’s like for both of them—it’s like watching a movie, but being able to feel what the characters feel. The attraction between the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr was immediate when they met, and strong, strong enough to last this long with almost no diminishment despite everything. It seeps into her mind, as the need the professor felt to remind himself of Mr. Lehnsherr’s realness is met for now, a different need occupying him as he moves his hand between them, to wrap around Mr. Lehnsherr’s—

Jean gasps, blinking her eyes open. She hadn’t realized she’d closed them. She should shut down this connection, go back to sleep, leave them be—but she doesn’t. 

No, instead she closes her eyes again, and through the professor feels what it’s like to have Mr. Lehnsherr—no, now she really should think of him as Erik—thick and hot in his hand. Erik is groaning softly in the prof—Charles’—ear, breath warm on his neck, warm and real. At the back of both of their minds at all times now is how close they came to destruction, to never seeing each other again, and here there’s proof of breath in their lungs, of blood pulsing beneath their skin. They whisper things that, somehow, she can’t quite understand, at least not more than the gist. Maybe it’s just beyond her knowing, and meant only for the two of them. Regardless, she finds herself lying back down again.

Charles squeezes Erik’s—cock, a knowing grip, familiar, and gives it a stroking squeeze, firm, pulling a rasping groan from Erik’s throat. Charles smiles and says something that Jean doesn’t catch, because she’s giving in to the sudden sharp urge to turn over, face down on the bed, her hand going right into her underwear. 

She’s hot—she should get her nightshirt and her underwear off, kick the sheets off, but there’s no time, the urge is too strong. Frantic, she rubs herself, echoing the way Charles is working Erik in his grip, the way he’s heightening his own pleasure, now centered primarily in his mind since he was paralyzed. The lines between her touching herself and the professor touching her as he’s touching Erik seem blurred, but she can’t tease those threads out now to determine if it’s just her imagination.

Charles strokes Erik to his—orgasm, Erik and Jean both coming with a cry at the same time, Jean shivering all over with it, her sweat-slick skin rippling into goosebumps as she gasps. She’s aware once more of how quiet everything is, even her mind, except for the sounds of her own breathing. Then, a whisper in her thoughts—

 _Jean_.

She realizes then that her eavesdropping has become a two-way radio. Ch—the professor is in her mind. She freezes in mortification, hand still in her underwear, panting into her pillow.

 _Jean… calm yourself, it’s fine_.

_How long have you—_

_Long enough_. His tone is gentle.

 _It was an accident, I—I didn’t mean to. I thought I was dreaming_. She still hasn’t moved her hand.

 _But then you realized you weren’t and you chose to keep listening_. He’s… teasing. Maybe she’s not in trouble. But why wouldn’t she be? As connected as they are now, there’s still no excuse for this sort of eavesdropping, this violation of privacy, however accidental it may have been at the beginning.

_I’m—I’m sorry—_

_It’s all right_ , he tells her, sounding strained and breathless suddenly, and then, unbelievably, she’s feeling _him_ come. In response, as an echo, another tremor runs through her; her thighs are trembling. A realization of the sheer pleasure of the feeling washes over her.

She realizes that Erik has gone still, watching Charles curiously, and she’s utterly mortified once more. _Does Erik know I’ve been... listening…?_

 _’Erik’?_ Charles repeats, amused.

 _Mr. Lehnsherr_ , she corrects herself hastily, and Charles laughs. 

_He is wondering what has me so distracted_ , he says. 

_Don’t tell him_ , she begs. Mr. Lehnsherr is so— She can’t bear him knowing she was listening to them having sex, that she came the same time he did, as if she was— She shifts against her hand, which is still in her underwear.

 _It’s all right_ , Charles tells her again, amused. _I won’t tell him. You can tell him yourself, next time this happens_.

It takes her a second to respond, after she blinks away a stab of guilt and surprise. _It won’t—_

 _Honestly I’m surprised it hasn’t already_ , Charles continues. 

What does that mean? _I—_

 _When it happens again_ , he continues, as if she hadn’t halfheartedly protested, _come down here. No sense in you staying over there alone, after all that’s happened. I rather think you’ll have a much better time here with us_. There’s a self-assured smile in his voice, and a dark promise that echoes in her mind as his departs, leaving her blinking in the dark and taking her time pulling her hand out of her panties.

\-------

It doesn’t even take twenty-four hours.

The same time the next night she wakes up again, slick with sweat, breathing hard. She considers lying there, ignoring them, going back to sleep after blocking them out. But even as she considers it, she knows she’s not going to stay here.

 _I think you’ll have a much better time with us_ , Charles had said of himself and Erik. (Funny how she thinks of them by their first names, now.) She thinks of their hands on her, instead of her own, and shivers.

She gets out of bed, and walks silently down hall after hall to the professor’s bedroom. The door is open just a crack. 

For her. 

She walks in, and there they are, in the dark, sitting against the headboard, waiting for her. They have the sheets up to their waists, but they aren’t wearing clothing that she can see. She stops where she is, heart pounding.

 _Come here_.

She closes the door after herself without moving, and climbs onto the bed, over the footboard. On her hands and knees, she stops, sits back on her heels, and swallows. _I don’t want—_

 _You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, darling_. She knows this, and they all know she can stop them whenever she likes, but it’s good to hear Charles say it. _It’s enough that you’re here_. Next to him, watching her avidly yet not intrusively, Erik nods. 

He glances at Erik, who moves to create a space for her, between them. She takes a deep breath, and crawls forward, slow, trying to be as dignified as possible, and sits next to Charles, turning slightly toward him as she stretches her legs out. Erik is close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from him, his hip brushing her when she shifts again, self-conscious.

Charles turns to her, hand going to her hip; she shifts, letting him pull up the hem of her nightshirt in a way that almost feels accidental, incidental, although she knows it isn’t and that fact thrills her. His hand is warm, sure, as it slides up to her waist, fingers pausing briefly on the fabric of her underwear. She thinks of herself the night before, on her stomach with her hand in her panties, and doesn’t hide the memory from him; she hears his intake of breath. 

He’s looking at his hand on her, and she watches his face; he glances up at her, eyes large and luminous in the dark, seeming even more so now that he’s bald. Surprising herself, she kisses him.

She wouldn’t have thought kissing him would be that big a deal. After all, she’s been in his mind, saved his life, and it’s not like she’s never kissed anyone before, although admittedly, it’s mostly been Scott. But Scott doesn’t kiss like this, and he’s never seen her in her nightshirt, and they’ve never been in the same bed at night. 

It should feel profoundly wrong to kiss someone with so many years more experience than she has, but it doesn’t. Not at all. It’s actually very, very nice. She feels Charles smile into the kiss.

Erik’s hand rests on her hip, and she jumps at the touch, with a little gasp; Charles takes the opportunity to tilt his head and kiss her more deeply, fingers briefly stroking her skin. She moans, softly and almost without realizing it, and he draws back, still close, looking at her.

 _We don’t have to do anything more than just this_ , Charles tells her. _You’re lovely just like this_. She doesn’t answer; she reaches to touch his arm, his side, bare skin that should be hidden from her view. He holds his breath, lets it out with a sigh against her lips.

“What about Scott?” she whispers, realizing her throat is dry.

“What about Scott?” Charles returns, amused. “Do you want him here?” 

Erik scoffs, almost to himself.

“No,” Jean says. And honestly, she doesn’t, it’s just—

“Thought not,” Charles says. “I believe this sort of thing requires proper instruction from the more experienced, those with achievements our dear Scott cannot yet claim. If anything, in due time you’ll have a thing or two to show him.” With a soft chuckle, he kisses her again, shifting closer still. 

Erik clears his throat, and they pause. Charles laughs quietly as he breaks the kiss, and moves to smile at him. “Feeling neglected, darling?”

“Getting bored,” Erik replies; as Jean turns to him, she notes a certain intensity in his eyes as he looks directly into hers, then at her mouth. He raises a brow just briefly before she shifts to press her mouth to his; on an inhalation, she parts her lips and then his tongue is against hers, his hand returning to her hip. Charles’ hand is on her waist again, sliding around to her belly; she shivers, and thinks that there’s a restrained fierceness in Erik’s kiss that hadn’t been in Charles’. It’s not directed at her, necessarily; it’s just who he is, how he kisses, where Charles is knee-weakeningly thorough. It’s heady. He’s gentle, but his stubble is unavoidably rough on the tender skin around her lips. Unbidden, she imagines it scraping her elsewhere.

Behind her, Charles chuckles. _That can be arranged_.

She says nothing to that, just reaches to touch her fingers to Erik’s chest, although she wonders privately if Charles planted that idea, or if she thought of it on her own. 

Charles’ hand on her belly slides up under her shirt until his fingers are just barely touching the edge of the underside of her breasts; he only has to move inches to actually touch them. God, she’s wet already just from the thought, wet like she’d been the night before. But it’s too far, isn’t it? She knows if she got up and left right now there’d be no problem, but she wants to stay, she wants Charles’ hand to move. She shifts back against him, twisting a bit, Erik following and still kissing her as finally, finally Charles cups her breast, maddeningly lightly. She gasps, Erik stealing her breath, his hand describing slow circles on her hip. 

Charles’ thumb brushes over her nipple; he kisses her neck, just under her ear, and she shivers with a little cry, nipple hardening with an almost painful pulling. He kneads her, gently yet just firmly enough, mouth soft on her skin. Distracted, it takes her a moment to realize that her hand is sliding down Erik’s chest.

“Jean,” Charles whispers, “would you like to tell Erik what exactly had me so distracted last night?”

Erik breaks the kiss, and Charles pinches her nipple. “I—overheard you,” she says, voice low and shaky. 

“Overheard us doing what?” Charles prods, a smile in his voice.

“I—This,” Jean says, hand finding and wrapping around Erik’s cock, unpracticed and hesitant. Still, Erik gasps.

“And what did you do?” Charles’ breath is warm against her neck. His hand moves from her breast to down between her legs, over her underwear. It’s a very light touch, almost casual though clearly not. She gasps and reflexively squeezes Erik’s cock, closing her eyes for a moment.

“I got off to it,” she says as she opens her eyes, to find Erik looking at her. “I got off when you did.”

“I can see how that would be distracting for you, Charles,” Erik says, voice sounding a little tight, still looking at her. 

“I found it… inspiring,” Charles says. Jean wants very badly to actually feel Charles’ hand on her with no fabric in the way; she tilts her hips, parts her thighs, and then he moves his hand to inside her underwear, cupping her intimately. She gasps. She’s soaked, and now he knows exactly how much. He hums in affirmation, and presses his lips to her neck again.

 _Jean darling, I’d like you to move your hand. But not as much as Erik would_. He works his hand down further into her underwear, just a bit. _Merely a suggestion, of course. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to_. 

She moves her hand. Erik inhales.

“Do be careful with him, will you,” Charles says, low and amused. “He’s in his fifties, you know.”

Erik makes a sound between a huff and a groan, closing his eyes. He’s two years older than Charles, though neither of them look their age, even with Charles being bald— 

Charles moves his hand, just slightly, and Jean whimpers, taking a moment to coordinate herself and give Erik another slow, squeezing stroke. Charles nudges his fingers further down, then back up, and she gives Erik another stroke and then understands. Charles chuckles softly when she gets it.

“You can always leave whenever you like,” he murmurs, “but I do think you’ll find it’s quite enjoyable when it’s someone else doing this for you.” 

He rubs her clit and she groans, and finds that she’s stopped moving her hand. “Keep a rhythm, darling, keep a rhythm,” Charles instructs, and kisses her just under her ear, “that’s key.” 

When she gets back to it, increasingly steady if still somewhat unsure, Charles rewards her with rubbing in a matching rhythm. He rubs more firmly, and she gasps, hips twitching. She’s going to come soon if he keeps that up at this rate.

 _Mm, don’t worry about that_ , he says. _I want you to. You’re a young woman, you can come just about as often as you like. And you should_. His teeth close gently on her earlobe, and she whimpers again, but manages to keep stroking Erik. _When you do come_ , he continues, tugging lightly on it with his teeth, _send the feeling to Erik, see if you can tip him over that way. It’s a lovely trick to master. He won’t admit how much he likes it_. 

_What about you?_ she manages.

 _I’ll come once you both do_ , he tells her. _Like I did the other night. There are perks to knowing the feelings of others, my dear_.

He presses harder, and she gasps softly, squeezing Erik more firmly and stroking him faster. He groans, starting to move his hips. 

“What if I lose control?” she asks Charles.

“I’m sure you won’t,” he says, sounding surprised. “Look at how far you’ve come. I wouldn’t suggest anything you’re unable to handle. You’re extraordinary, Jean. Remember what I told you? Let go. No fear.” He’s almost whispering, mouth right next to her ear, breath hot on her skin.

And the thought of letting go is so tempting, she thinks as he rubs her faster. She’s so wet she can hear it. Erik thrusts into her hand, and she presses against Charles’ fingers. Erik lifts up her nightshirt and cups her breast, massaging it with his long, steady fingers, and he kisses her again, deeper now and more restless.

Between the kiss, Erik kneading her breast, Charles nipping at the soft skin of her neck, and Charles’ practiced hand firmly working her, Jean can’t hold back anymore and comes, barely remembering to shove the feeling to Erik. 

He comes almost immediately, hard, with a body-deep shudder and a low groan she feels all through her, not to mention what it feels like emanating from his mind. She can feel Charles’ peak too, brought on by both of theirs, and she has to draw her power back a little before she becomes overwhelmed. Dazedly, as she loosens the grip of her now-sticky hand and shifts back to catch her breath, she thinks Charles probably did that trick much more smoothly. 

Behind her Charles chuckles softly, his hand still now but continuing to cup her very intimately, the feeling already starting to tease. He catches that and starts to rub her again, slowly and deliberately, and to her surprise she comes again, almost right away. Erik is watching her, as he rubs his thumb across her hardened nipple. He’s still panting, brow slightly furrowed, gaze still intense. 

_Erik often appreciates directness_ , Charles tells her.

Erik shifts down the bed before she realizes it, pushes her shirt out of the way, and takes her nipple into his mouth. Not expecting this, she cries out in surprise, then in arousal as he tugs at her. He pulls off with an almost-painful pop to give the other breast the same treatment, and suddenly she’s aware of Charles saying _You know, I’d greatly enjoy watching him fuck you. In every possible position, I think, yes—_ , and can hardly believe what she’s heard. 

Charles pinches her clit and she comes again, Erik’s teeth on her nipple with just the right amount of pressure-pain. Erik shudders again; Charles shudders too, and she can feel him smiling against her neck.

 _I—not—_ , she struggles to say, almost speechless, nearly overwhelmed.

 _Not tonight, no_ , he agrees, completing her thought. _And not ever, if you don’t want. But I’d very much like to taste you, and make you come that way_ —he sends her a brief mental image of his head between her thighs, sucking on her clit and fucking her with his tongue, and another little tremor wracks her— _and I’d like to watch Erik fuck you. I want to feel it, in your minds. There are so many ways we can use our gifts, Jean. I want you to learn all of them_.

Erik shifts back again, and she turns to face Charles more, as he withdraws his hand from her underwear. Erik shifts closer, against her back, pressing her between them; it’s surprisingly comfortable, despite the slick sweat and drying come. They’re warm, at least, and unyielding.

“This is not exactly what I expected to learn when I came to this school,” she tells him dryly. 

Charles cups her jaw, drawing a thumb across her cheek, as Erik slides an arm around her waist. “That could be said about more than a few things you’ve learned lately. You’ll pass it all with flying colors regardless, I’m sure.” Charles’ eyes hold a steady fondness and fascination as he leans in to kiss her again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Gerec](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec) for looking this over!


End file.
